filed under awful
by daffidil
Summary: Greg has an anniversary present for Mycroft... It's a tad unusual, and Mycroft isn't too sure... est. Mystrade. rated M for coarse language and some naughtiness...


**filed under awful**

If ever there was a day that Mycroft wanted to forget fast, it was this one...

It had started nicely enough, Greg waking him with a loving embrace, and warm, wet kisses in his neck, and promises of more fun later in the day, not being too specific, but Mycroft had presumed that he meant this evening, when they both had come back from work, had showered and dined and would settle in to an evening with maybe a film, or just some music and each other's company. It was the first anniversary of their civil partnership, and although they hadn't planned to do anything outlandish, they would celebrate just with the two of them.

His surprise was big when he received a message from his darling at lunchtime, mentioning his imminent arrival at the office where Mycroft spent most of his working days, although how he was thinking he would get past security, and Ms Gielgud, the department's secretary (and very beady-eyed watchdog), was beyond anybody's guess. Nobody dropped by Mycroft's office. Well, Sherlock managed a few times, but even he was now somewhere high on the list of security, and unless Mycroft would give his personal stamp of approval, even his little brother was persona non grata.

He heard a knock on the door.

"Um, yes?" he answered with some doubt sounding through, fully expecting Ms Gielgud to walk in with a pile of papers. Great was his astonishment when it wasn't she, but his partner that popped his head around the door, smiling stupidly.

"Hi, my sweet," he said, while holding out a red rose and wandering through to meet a bemused looking Mycroft, planting a kiss on his mouth, smothering the question he had managed to form seconds before.

"Hello, to what do I owe this pleasure?" he said when he had the use of his lips back. "Not that I wouldn't want to see you on this dreadfully dull day…"

"Well, I was passing, and it's a bit dead at the Yard as well right now, so I thought: why don't I go and see how my man is doing…" Greg had placed himself against the desk, facing Mycroft, who had sat down again, grinning inanely.

"How on earth did you get past Ms Gielgud? Or the front door, for that matter…? I must get security checked out later on." Mycroft grabbed Greg's hands and tried to pull him down.

"I work for Scotland Yard, My, it still has a few perks… And Julie, um - Ms Gielgud, she was putty in my hands… It's amazing what a bit of flattering will do to some women – even the Ms Gielgud's of this world. So, here I am… And I thought we could maybe…" Greg's voice dropped a few decibels, sounding a lot more sultry than before. He managed to tug Mycroft up from his seat, and pulled him against his body.

"Maybe what…" Mycroft whispered, though feeling a bit uncomfortable, being where they were.

"Maybe you know… Defile your desk a little?"

"Gregory!"

"No?" he carried on by kissing his other half lightly first, tasting the hunger in his lips. "Not even just a little bit?"

"Not here, Gregory, please…" Mycroft gasped, as he allowed Greg to carry on kissing him, feel his hands go under his waistcoat, buttons being undone, and his defence was failing miserably. "Can't we… Ooh god… Can't we wait until… Oh Gregory, stop, please…" His voice sounded as powerful as rice paper does in a rainstorm.

Greg pulled away a little, seeing the discomfort in his lover's eyes. "Doesn't this door lock? Why don't I lock it?"

"Yes it does, but… Oh Gregory this is wrong… We're not animals, surely, we can wait to…" he tried as he saw Greg walk up to the door, turn the built-in lock twice, then return to him, touching his face gently, smiling and seeing a kind of glee return, and he carried on his ministrations, kissing Mycroft with an eagerness he recognised in himself. "Maybe, just this once…"

"Happy anniversary, my husband," Greg breathed as he pulled said husband closer to him, leaning against the desk again, and he noticed that said husband was getting rather aroused, very quickly, and he himself was finding it more and more difficult to deny his feelings there and then, although he never intended to deny much.

He felt his shirt being unbuttoned hurriedly, hands stroking his chest and lips moving from his mouth to his neck, his throat and round the other side, and his breathing was going deeper and louder as each second passed.

"Oh, Mycroft!," he groaned, and allowed for his trousers to be undone by nimble hands. Hands were touching him everywhere now, moving down from his chest, to his abdomen, and further down to try and deal with his boxer shorts, and as they did, he was unable to resist the assault that was going on down there. He was so thoroughly aroused and as Mycroft's hands saw to him reaching the edge, he managed somehow to not release yet. Just a quick thought of Ms Gielgud did the job, and before he knew it, he felt Mycroft's wonderful mouth around him. Oh, god, good god! That was still so bloody wonderful, so bloody – ooh… Jesus… Gregory saw a head move and felt the hand that was so nimble with his buttons and devious with his cock earlier, and he grabbed that hand and held it for dear life, and within seconds, hearing Mycroft groan once, he felt himself release with a power that was way beyond his control.

"Oh, Jesus… Fuckin' oh… god…" Greg carried on as he leant against the desk, being done up by his other half, then kissed on the neck again, and hauled in for a sweet embrace. "God, Mycroft, I should surprise you more often…" he went on, grinning.

"Maybe… Though not if you want to see me with a heart attack soon, I'm not very good with the thought that we can be heard," Mycroft said.

"What, those solid oak doors? You couldn't hear a bomb going off through those!"

"Well, I'm think you're being flippant, I can regularly hear arguments going on on-" Mycroft tried to explain when he was kissed once more by Greg, who manoeuvred away from the desk a little, pushing his lover toward his chair, not stopping until he sat down.

"Too much talking, darling. Time for action," grinned the Detective Inspector, eager to reciprocate the treatment he received not minutes earlier.

"There's no need," an anxious Mycroft replied, but was ignored completely by his husband. He too was kissed everywhere, and his shirt undone, now that this waistcoat had already been discarded. His trousers met the same fate as Greg's had and before he knew it, Mycroft was very far away, enjoying the attention that was given to his state of arousal. He managed to forget where he was, let his hands go through Greg's hair, groaning slightly while he heard small noises coming from under the desk, and he was about to let himself disappear into the orgasm he was working towards, when he heard the door to his office being opened, and the faces of some of his colleagues appear around the corner, ready to walk in, but noticing a red-faced Mycroft.

"Oh. Shit. Sorry. I thought you were out…" was mumbled, embarrassedly, and the door shut as quickly as it opened, and Mycroft sighed.

Greg had stopped, noticing the disruption, and looked up at Mycroft, who looked like he was just caught with… well, his trousers down…

"Did that just happen?" Greg asked, as he made his way up from where he had been.

"'Fraid so…"

"But I locked the door! I did! You saw me do it!"

"Yes, and now I remember the memo from maintenance, saying that they were going to replace the old locks with new ones, and they must've… Oh for crying out loud! Why me?!"

Greg pulled his sweet darling up for an embrace, making sure he was going to be okay before he'd leave. Trust him to have this happening to him, poor bloke… The one time he's daring himself to be spontaneous, and this happens…

"You want to come back home now? Or go and have something to eat?"

"As if I'm ever going to show my face on this department again. I'll wait until everyone has gone home, then leave through the window or something…"

Greg pulled away a little, then looked into his lover's eyes.

"I'll make sure you will get the best blow-job ever, tonight, Mycroft Holmes… Try and get through this afternoon, put on a false moustache and a beard and pretend you're from Austria…" Greg quipped, and saw a careful smile on his man's face.

"What would my life be without you in it, Gregory Lestrade…? A lot more boring, that's for sure…" Mycroft giggled, and allowed himself to be kissed and cuddled for a while longer.

The walk away through the department was awful, but Mycroft had quite enough bottle as well as sense of the absurd (developed over years of being with Gregory Lestrade) to not give too much of a monkey's while his colleagues stared, and Ms Gielgud glowered, and he only thought of the gift awaiting him at home, so as to make this day not quite the disaster that it could've been… Though if he'd had the choice…


End file.
